


i like it in your blood

by losers-to-lovers (missberryisbest)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged Up, Alternate Universe, Bev is gonna be a witch, Bill is ??? You'll have to read to find out, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Dark, Dark Richie Tozier, Dark Stan Uris, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Eddie Kaspbrak Whump, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Horror, Kidnapped Eddie Kaspbrak, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Anguish, Morally grey Mike and Ben, Needles, No Clown, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Vomiting, Voyeurism, im going thru it and writing helps, this doesn't get happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberryisbest/pseuds/losers-to-lovers
Summary: Eddie woke up flinching. He had the fading notion that he had heard a loud bang and should be concerned, but it was quickly tossed aside in favor of noticing how uncomfortable he was. And cold. The wall he was leaning against seemed to be leaking ice straight into his spine and he was shivering. The harsh glow of a fluorescent bulb mixed with the overwhelming scent of lemon antiseptic, dust and stale cigarette smoke made him want to hurl, or, wait, no, maybe that came from the dizziness.__Eddie wakes up abducted and chained to a wall, and is forced to deal with this startling shift in his reality. Things take a a really dark turn for the boy as he meets his captors. And something about the house they are in is really fucking weird. Aka I want an abduction au with midwestern/southern gothic vibes. It is going to get Dark, please know that before you read. Read the tags, I'm bgeggigng.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 39
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [my playlist for the fic](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLu1DeF0p1_m8WXXC_Hh4_7BHlIpZZw0L1l)  
> TAGS WILL BE UPDATED WITH EACH NEW CHAPTER, AS NEEDED!  
> basically, i read the poem at the beginning of chapter one and this idea just started taking root.  
> we're going to start off with the first two chapters, but i don't know how often i'll update.  
> i guess that if you want to read more you'll just have to [hmu on tumblr](losers-to-lovers.tumblr.com/ask) with asks about it...

**Threat**

Know this:

I live beast days. I am a water hour.

At night my eyelids droop like forest and sky.

My love knows few words:

I like it in your blood.

-Gottfried Benn

* * *

_The house had been there as long as anyone could remember, though people did their best not to think about it. It helped that they didn’t have to look at it, not the weathered paint or the dirty windows or the strong wooden bones. The house was farther out than the others.The dirt road leading to it was overgrown and they kept the gate shut. No well-trodden paths through the tall grass linked it to the rest - the capillaries and veins that pulsed amongst them didn’t connect here, the lifeblood didn’t reach this far. It was an outlier, easy to be forgotten. And it was all of this on purpose._

_Mostly, the house slept. Waited. Lingered. Until it got hungry. Or bored. When that happened it would send out the call through the air and the earth - thrumming in the dark until someone felt the vibration. Until they were caught on the bright hook of it. Until they answered. And someone would answer. They always did. Someone always answered the call._

* * *

Eddie woke up flinching. He had the fading notion that he had heard a loud bang and should be concerned, but it was quickly tossed aside in favor of noticing how uncomfortable he was. And _cold_. The wall he was leaning against seemed to be leaking ice straight into his spine and he was shivering. The harsh glow of a fluorescent bulb mixed with the overwhelming scent of lemon antiseptic, dust and stale cigarette smoke made him want to hurl, or, _wait, no_ , maybe that came from the dizziness. 

Because he was _really_ fucking dizzy.The room seemed to be spinning and his head was pounding. Wincing and taking in a breath of stale air, Eddie gagged at the thick taste. Biting back bile, he tried to blink away the fogginess in his brain. Slowly, things started to come into focus. But the focus didn’t help as much as he had hoped that it would.

 _What the fucks goin’ on?_ He wondered hazily. His head _hurt_ , right along the hairline, sharp and different than the general throbbing of the rest of his body. It was like he had a cut back there or something. He absently reached a hand up to rub at the back of his head, but it never made it that far - at just about shoulder height his wrist pulled to a stop with a sharp snap and a rattling sound.

Looking down, Eddie was startled but strangely unworried to notice that he was apparently, holy shit, _shackled_ , for lack of a better term. His left wrist was encased in a thick black leather cuff lined with something soft and padlocked to a chain that disappeared off the side of the mattress. Because apparently, he was also just sitting on a sheet-covered mattress. 

Eddie stared dumbly at the leather band and frowned. Then he shook his arm a bit to try and see if the chain had more give. It didn’t, the only thing that happened was a momentary disruption of the strange buzzing silence he’d been sitting in as the metal links clinked together angrily. For a bit, Eddie was befuddled. Until -

 _Oh, right,_ Eddie realized, _I have another arm_. Grinning to himself proudly for remembering this important information, Eddie saw that his other hand was free, so he gingerly rubbed at his sore neck and then inched his fingers up until they reached tape and gauze right at the base of his hairline. 

“Fuck, that _stings,_ ” he hissed, pulling away quickly and jerking backwards. This had a doubly negative effect as his skull smacked into the wall behind his head, and Eddie whimpered a bit as his nausea got even worse. _Ouch_. 

His mouth started filling with saliva and Eddie realized he was probably going to barf. Glancing around frantically, Eddie noticed an empty blue bunny ice cream pail right next to him, so he reached his free hand out and snatched it up. Holding it to his chest he alternated between hacking and dry heaving into it, groaning and shuddering as he tried to get control of himself. 

Eventually his vision got spotty around the edges and he used his last moments of consciousness to set the bucket down as far away from him as he could, before slumping back against the wall.

 _What the fuck happened to me?_ Eddie thought, just as everything faded away.

* * *

The next time Eddie came to it was a lot slower, and he wasn’t nearly as cold. He saw that the plastic bucket had been emptied and rinsed and thoughtfully set next to his head, and he’d been given a blanket. It was coarse and made the space smell even more like cigarettes, but Eddie still felt sleepily grateful for the warmth. 

He was also laying down instead of sitting propped against the wall, so he figured that he must have repositioned in his sleep. For a second the unwelcome thought came into his brain that it would be impossible for him to move himself that much without noticing. Not to mention that someone had clearly been in here to give him the blanket and toss out his vomit, but he shoved the thought down. It was too creepy to imagine someone manhandling him around like that. 

_I repositioned in my sleep_ , he thought, firmly. And he almost believed it - until he tried to roll over and wasn’t able to because his arm stopped short when he ran out of chain.

 _Oh yeah, I’m shackled,_ he remembered, his eyes shooting open. _Fuck._

 _This should be stressing me out_ , Eddie realized, forcing himself to sit up, _why isn’t this stressing me out?_

 _It’s almost like -_ Eddie froze for a moment, before the lethargy forcibly took hold once more. 

He knew exactly what this was like. This sense of detached mild interest mixed with feeling like he was floating was way too fucking familiar. He felt just like he had as a kid, all the times when his mother would hide little white pills in his oatmeal and yogurt to ‘help him calm down and be her good Eddie-bear’ again.

 _I’ve been drugged_ , Eddie realized, unable to pay too close of attention to the very small voice at the back of his head screaming that this wasn’t good. 

_Huh._

At least now that he knew a fraction of what was going on he was better able to make his brain adapt to the weirdness. He started by kicking off his blanket, knowing the cold feeling of the room would help at least a bit. It did, and Eddie was finally able to take stock of himself. He was wearing clothes that he didn’t recognize - faded flannel boxers and a plain cotton shirt. 

“Yeah, I’d definitely be freaking out right now if I could,” Eddie said with a sigh. He decided not to think about the bruises that were darkly staining his legs, pretty sure that he could make out an entire handprint around his one ankle.

“Also - no wonder I’m cold, these clothes are _not_ sufficient,” Eddie went on, feeling a need to further combat the fuzzy feeling by talking out loud as much as possible. He’d also get up and start moving around until his blood was pumping, despite how much he ached, but the cuff and chain wouldn’t let that happen. And Eddie was pretty sure that was their exact intended purpose.

Barring being able to get up, Eddie decided the next best thing would be learning as much as he could about the wound on the back of his head. But gentler, this time. Gritting his teeth, Eddie reached back and started palpating at it very lightly. He thought he could make out the feel of at least five stitches underneath the protective covering.

 _Yikes. That probably isn’t good. Wish I could remember what the fuck happened, but oh well_.

Moving his hand in front of his face, Eddie was relieved to notice that, at the very least, he wasn’t bleeding through whatever bandage was covering his wound.

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Eddie said, into the stillness of the room. Oh yeah - the room. 

_These drugs got me fucked as shit_ , Eddie thought, angry that he hadn’t had enough mental wherewithal to take in his extended surroundings before now.

Eddie took the time to look around. It was dingy, but there was a window, at least. And a faded grey carpet. And a white painted wooden door that was cracked open. Leaning forward as much as he could, Eddie squinted, trying to make out what was beyond the door, but it was all shadow, and squinting made his eyes hurt, so he slouched back, giving up. Tears pricked his eyes and Eddie didn’t have the energy to try and stop them from falling.

 _Well, that’s a good sign_ , Eddie thought, _I’m finally upset enough to cry._

Sure it was less ‘terrible mournful sobs about how fucking awful things were’ and more a thin but continual means of his body trying to release some of his stress, but he figured that counted for something. Maybe soon his brain would work again. 

Tired of fighting against the humming buzz in his veins, Eddie sighed and just kind of sat there. He covered himself with the rough wool blanket and adjusted his position on the mattress until he was facing the window. Then he just watched the play of shadow against the other side of the dingy white curtain. 

* * *

Eddie ran out of tears eventually, as the day wore on. He heard some noises, sounds like nails scratching and scurried footsteps, even a hushed whisper that was answered with a loud shush. But fuck if he was going to try and attract any attention to himself. Not right now, _hell_ no. 

He was _tired_. He was _chained up_. Before the day was over he knew he was probably going to have to _pee into an empty ice cream bucket_. Thankfully there was a lid provided. This was his reality and he needed time to just, _not_. 

After considering how fucked things were, he gave himself a long while to just let his mind be static. Sounds washed over him without being heard, and the day wore on. 

Then, after an especially loud thump on the ceiling above him that made the light flicker, Eddie flinched and shook himself. It made his head ache, but he needed to fucking get his shit together. 

_Okay Eddie,_ he thought, taking in a deep breath. _You’ve got to say it out loud. You have to deal with this._

“I’ve been kidnapped,” Eddie said, shuddering the words out on a shaky breath. It was real. He had _known_ it hours ago, but he was finally _feeling_ it. In his brain _and_ in his body.

The terror that he hadn’t been able to hold on to before suddenly rushed in all around him, and it didn’t help that the sun was setting and the single fluorescent bulb over the door was doing a shit job at lighting up the corners of the room. 

As the sun went down it was like the shadows were creeping closer with intent, and Eddie was scared about what would happen if they touched any part of him. 

_That’s nonsense,_ he told himself firmly. _They’re just shadows. Think about something else. Shut your eyes and think about before._

And so he did. But when he thought back to the before, he realized that besides the mostly dark and not at all helpful memories of his childhood, which he _knew_ were years ago, there was nothing. It wasn’t even like there was a block between him and his life, it was like he reached out into his mind and the room of it where there used to be wall to wall boxes of memories was somehow just…. empty.

 _I can’t remember before_ , he realized _. I can’t remember a single fucking part of what or who I was before today_. 

That was the last straw, and Eddie felt the edges of his vision start to go red and his chest tightened. A motherfucking wrecking ball of a panic attack was heading his way. Curling up in a ball, Eddie gave in. 

The world around him faded away and Eddie was adrift within himself, heaving in breaths as his entire body shivered. He lost track of anything except for the ache at the back of his head and the emptiness in his mind where he was certain that a whole lot of thoughts and memories were supposed to be. 

When Eddie came back to himself he stopped breathing in the middle of an inhale. He tensed and wished he was holding something sharp. Anything that he could fight with. Because even with his eyes shut tight, even though his face was pressed into a pillow to muffle any noises, he _knew_ that he wasn’t alone. Someone else was in the room. From the hot and burning sensation currently boring into his back, he was pretty sure they were just sitting on the floor _staring_ at him.

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_Every now and again the people would forget too much about the house. Kids would think they knew better than their parents and the parents would bargain within themselves that maybe time had exaggerated what they thought they remembered. They’d wonder in groups of three or four why no one just... got rid of it. Sure, they didn’t have to look at it much, but it was an eyesore. A gaping wound on their land. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if it was gone?_

_The house didn’t mind when they had these thoughts, it was secure in the knowledge that it was safe. It was protected. They could spray their kerosene and light their matches all they wished - the front porch of the house wouldn’t catch fire. But a week later the mayor’s barn might burn down. A child or two or three might catch a terrible fever and waste away to nothing but skin and bones and shaking breath. The schools might shut down to stop the spread. The hospitals might fill up in a matter of days._

_Until the mothers remembered the stories told to them by their mother’s mothers. Until they waded through the tall grass when the moon was full. Until they stood before the house and bared their breasts and bent their backs and fell to their knees. Until they sang the wailing songs and slit their wrists. Until the earth was stained red beneath them. Until they collapsed to the ground boneless - their penance served._

* * *

Eddie stayed curled up for a good three minutes after realizing he wasn’t alone. He was pretty sure that he was okay with staying curled up forever. 

He had a momentary flash of hope that whoever it was might be there to rescue him, but it was gone almost as quick as it came. _If they were here to get me out they wouldn’t just sit there breathing_ , Eddie thought, with a sigh. 

“Just so you know, I’m quite comfortable,” a lilting voice said, cutting through the silence and making Eddie jump. The stranger was a lot closer than he had originally thought. 

“I can sit here for as long as it takes,” the voice went on, “I’m not going to leave until we talk.”

Eddie thought it sounded like a man, but the pitch was a bit higher than usual, and melodic. Like a songbird. The drawl Eddie was so used to hearing was completely absent - each word was said with precision. 

“Well,” Eddie said, his teeth gritted as he curled even tighter around his pillow. “I’m not really in a position to _stop_ you. So talk.”

The wound at the back of Eddie’s head chose that moment to pulse angrily, making him flinch. 

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to be polite and look at me,” the voice went on, smooth as cream and honey. “It’s common courtesy, a concept I’m hoping you’re familiar with.”

Eddie snorted derisively, but he knew he was going to give in, if only to put a face to the voice.

 _Might as well get it over with_ , Eddie thought, and he slowly uncurled and rearranged himself, making sure to clank his chained arm as noisily as he could as he twisted around and sat up. Eddie was silent at first, blatantly taking the measure of the stranger sitting pretzel legged just over an arms length away from the mattress. 

Curly blonde hair was backlit by the naked bulb, creating a halo effect that highlighted the messy ringlets and casting a shadow that made it hard to see the stranger’s face. Eddie could make out pale eyes and the glint of white teeth inside of a mouth turned up into a passable imitation of a smile.

“Hey there, kitten,” the man said, tilting his head to the side. “How are you feeling?” 

“That’s not my name,” Eddie said, crossly. 

“Don’t worry, I know who you are,” the man said, smile disappearing and eyes getting sharp. He reached into the front pocket of his checkered blue flannel shirt and pulled out a small rectangle and started to recite -

“Edward Francis Kaspbrak, born on the first of May, 5 feet 4 inches tall, street address -”

“Okay, fine,” Eddie interrupted, not really feeling like being read a bunch of details about a life he couldn’t even fucking remember. “You kidnapped me and stole my licence and now you know everything about me.”

“Technically, we abducted you,” the man said, shrugging. “Kidnapping only applies to minors. You’re twenty-three.”

 _I’m twenty-three_ , Eddie thought, relieved to relearn this about himself.

“Now,” the man went on. “I’m going to ask you again, and this time I’d _really_ appreciate an answer. And be honest. How are you feeling?”

_Moment of relief over._

Eddie felt rage coil in his belly, and he opened his mouth to let some of it out. Then he swallowed, and tried to look at things rationally. He was locked up in a room. He had no memory of his life beyond the age of 15. This man clearly had the upper hand, and Eddie needed to be smart. _Don’t anger the crazy man, Edward_ , he told himself. _Make the crazy man happy._

“I’m doing fine,” Eddie said. “A bit sore, and this arm bolted to the floor thing is uncomfortable. I mean, I also don’t know what’s up with the back of my head…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, waving a hand. “We’re keeping a close eye on the incision, you’ll be fine, we wouldn’t risk you getting an infection.”

“Thank you,” Eddie ground out between clenched teeth, his fist closed so tightly in his lap the nails bit into the flesh of his palm.

“Of course,” the man said, twisting around and grabbing something. “I have something for you, kitten.”

Turning back around, the man held out a large glass of water, condensation beading up on the outside of the cup and running down over the stranger’s fist. All of the sudden Eddie realized exactly how thirsty he was, and he wanted the water more than anything. But -

“No thank you,” Eddie said, trying to be polite but definitely not ready to be drugged again.

The man frowned, clearly not understanding.

“But you must be thirsty,” He said, gesturing towards Eddie. “You’ve had a long day.” The man scooted closer, the cup stretched out before him.

“My throat is fucking sandpaper,” Eddie admitted. “But I just came back from whatever the fuck you dosed me with last, like, that was really shitty to deal with, and I’d rather not-”

“Oh,” the man said, “this is just water, I promise. See?” Lifting up the cup carefully to his lips, the man took a deep gulp. 

Eddie sat, still, watching as the man wiped the condensation from his lips. _Fuck it_.

“You promise?” Eddie asked, his voice small.

The man smirked. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Eddie reached out a shaky hand and took the glass, being very careful to not grab it anywhere near the other man’s hand, not wanting to risk touch. The cup was still cool to the touch, and he hastily brought it to his lips, letting out a moan almost against his will as the water hit his tongue.

 _So fucking good_ , Eddie thought, greedily gulping until suddenly the cup was gone. He whimpered at the loss.

“Easy now,” the man said, his voice chiding, “you don’t want to throw up. _Again_.”

 _Yeah_ , Eddie thought, _that’s the thing I don’t want._

But then he did feel a lurch in his stomach, and he realized that the man was right. He had been drinking too fast.

“I’ll give it back if you promise to take small sips,” the man went on.

“I promise,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. 

Quick as a flash, the man’s hand reached out and slapped him across the cheek. Eddie let out a sharp gasp, his head snapped to the side, the rush of movement making his face burn and his head throb.

“Don’t be rude,” the man said. “Rolling your eyes isn’t polite.”

Eddie’s cheek felt like it was on fire, and the anger he had tried to keep down climbed up his throat against his will. Growling, Eddie let it push up and out of him - lunching forward, he tried to grab at the man, not really _thinking_ , just wanting the man to hurt like he did.

But the man seemed to have expected this to happen, he scuttled backwards out of Eddie’s reach in a quick and fluid movement, so fast that Eddie could barely believe it. 

And Eddie let out a sharp cry at the sudden pain he felt as his arm yanked him backwards. He’d forgotten for a second that he was chained. The force pulled Eddie backwards until he collapsed back on the bed at an awkward angle. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Eddie cried, wiggling to release his unbound hand. He hastily wiped at his tears.

The man just shook his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I wish you wouldn’t have done that,” the man said, sighing and standing up. The sudden movement made Eddie flinch, but the man just walked to the door. Pausing in the entry way, he looked back at Eddie. “I’ll be back in a while. I have to….. Make some adjustments.” 

With those words the man disappeared into the darkness of the hall, leaving the door open. Eddie peered out, but all he could make out was a writhing blackness. 

“What do you want with me?!” Eddie screamed after him. It was like the words disappeared into the hall, swallowed up by all that darkness. 

And suddenly, all of Eddie’s rage left, and he was just exhausted. He followed up his shouts by whispering - 

“Just fucking tell me. Please. I don’t understand.”

There was no answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags have been updated for this chapter!

* * *

_It was the middle of the night when the First felt the call. It settled in his skin and he wanted to follow, to move, to come. It pulled at his bones and his prick, made his teeth itch to bite. So he did, lashing out. The pain woke the Second, but he laid there and took it, as was his duty and his right._

_Blood in his teeth, the First asked the Second if he could also feel it. But the Second could not, at least not over the lingering sting of fang in flesh. In time, they realized that it was only the First that the house called to. After all, like calls to like, and the Second was the half of the whole that was unlike._

_So they waited until morning, still as dry dust and bitter frost. They watched the sun rise, and when the cold October light licked at their feet, the First knew. Through him they were being called home. And it had been so long since they had known a home..._

* * *

Eddie waited for the man to come back. For the first twenty minutes or so, he was on edge. He stared into the darkness outside of the door and every time there was the slightest noise he flinched, thinking it meant the man had returned - that the ‘adjustments’ had been made. But the man didn’t come. 

So Eddie got bored. For a change of pace, instead of looking at the door he looked at the floor: an inviting mix of raw hardwood and dingy grey carpet. His skin started to crawl as Eddie imagined just how many germs and mites and insects could be lurking in the splits between the wood and in the grimy corners. They could be getting closer to him with every second, waiting to spread their diseases and -

 _Stop it,_ Eddie told himself, his mental voice firm. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, just don’t fucking think about it._

Eddie did his best to stop thinking about it, but it was difficult. He looked around the room for something else to focus on as he resisted a lingering urge to scratch his skin raw. That’s when he noticed that the large glass of water was still sitting there on the floor, almost two thirds full.

 _Oh_ , he thought, brightening and reaching out to grab it. _That’s one good thing, at least._ But his stupid arms were too short and Eddie couldn’t reach it.

 _Of fucking course_ , Eddie thought, scowling and swallowing dryly. It felt like there were razor blades lining his throat.

He was so _thirsty_. 

Eddie spent a good ten minutes or so stretching himself as much as he could, trying to extend forward enough to grab hold of it. But he just couldn’t fucking _reach_. If the idea wasn’t completely batshit, Eddie would almost think that the glass was moving farther away each time he managed to stretch himself out more; it felt like it was always _just_ out of his reach. But that was a crazy thought that didn’t follow any of the known laws of physics, so Eddie banished it. Firmly.

 _Goddamn my short arms,_ Eddie thought, biting his lip and trying to _think_. Then he had an idea. _What if I used my feet? That would work, wouldn’t it?_

More determined than ever, Eddie adjusted himself on the bed, scrambling about to shove his legs out from underneath him so he could point them towards the rest of the room. Towards the open door with the creeping darkness. For a moment his body rebelled, and he froze, instincts telling him it was _so much safer_ to be close to the wall than it was to expose any more of his skin to whatever was out there. But he was fucking _thirsty_. And the cup was _right there._

So Eddie pushed through it, even though he winced at the way the shift made all of his aches more pronounced. He untangled himself and stared at the glass, determined to make himself focus on his task and not on the dark marks littering his skin. Not on the exposed flesh he was displaying as the worn boxers he was wearing rode up his leg. Not on the heavy thought of something dark and angry springing up from between the weathered floorboards to grab and pinch and _sting._

“Not fucking helping, Kaspbrak,” Eddie said, the words falling dully from his mouth into the hungry silence of the room. He emphasized the statement by slapping his free hand down on the mattress, and the movement caused the water in the glass to vibrate gently. _So thirsty._

“Fucking focus on what matters,” Eddie went on, setting his lips into a firm line and gently extending his left leg outward. It shook a bit, but he took a couple of deep and calming breaths and the tremors stopped. 

Then, _success_! His foot brushed against the side of the glass. It felt slick and cool against his skin. Eddie wanted to sob with relief, but he was afraid of being heard through the open door. 

_Now if I can just -_ Eddie carefully moved his other leg out, trying to trap the cup between his feet. He started pulling the cup towards him, but then one of his legs cramped up and spasmed, and -

“Shit shit shit shit _shit_ ,” Eddie hissed, low and angry. He pulled his foot back as fast as he could, but it was too late. The cup tipped over, water spilling and glass shattering. 

He wanted to cry, but he was starting to get really worried about dehydration. So instead he just sat there, unblinking, watching the water soak uselessly into the floor. 

_Shit_.

* * *

Watching from the hall, Stan felt a tug of excitement in his gut as the Pet really got going. As it started acting so _predictably_ , responding to the given stimuli in just the way that Stan had expected it to. 

It had all been so _simple,_ really. Leaving the glass of water behind in the room hadn’t been an accident. It was a _variable_. Something for the kitty to interact with. To bat about. And anyways, Stan didn’t allow for accidents. He was meticulous, purposeful. 

It was all a test. A way to learn more about the Pet - to evaluate it. 

Because Stan had to know _more_. What would it do? Would it do anything? How smart was it? Had they chosen it wisely? So many questions. 

_Too many fucking questions_ , he thought as he held back a snarl of frustration. Richie was so certain of the way of things, so sure that what _he_ wanted lined up with what _they_ needed. But Stan wasn’t sure. Not yet. 

It was different for Stan. He couldn’t hear the voices like Richie could, couldn’t smell future in the dirt and taste truth on the wind. Stan relied on _facts_ , and there just weren’t enough yet. Not enough answers. Not enough _data_.

He hated it. It made his fangs itch. Made him want to take what was bothering him between his fingers and pull it apart so he could inspect the inside. 

But he knew from experience that when he did that, it got bloody. It riled up Richie. It made Mike get _angrysad_. Made Bev show up with her lectures about ‘balance’ and ‘not offering more than what was needed to serve.’ 

So Stan was going about it all differently this time around. He was handling his desires _scientifically_. Through _tests_. And he’d set this one up so carefully. He watched it all play out even better than he’d hoped. _Fascinating. The Pet had learned that it couldn't reach with its arms, so it started using its legs._ That made Stan have to adjust himself in his jeans, his cock taking an interest in the proceedings for the first time. _It_ **_was_ ** _smart_. 

Richie had gotten aroused by the abduction, jacking off on the limp body of the Pet before they'd even finished putting on its leash, but not Stan. Stan didn’t care for the Pet when it was all lifeless and limp. He wanted it to _wriggle,_ to move around. Just like it was doing right now, uncurling and stretching out.

Watching it made Stan’s breathing get more ragged, so he tried to calm down. He clenched and unclenched his fists until he got a bit _too_ excited, until his nails cut through flesh and he could feel the bleeding. 

It was just so _tantalizing_ to stand here. Out in the dark. Looking in as the poor little kitten sat there and tugged at its leash. As it hissed and shook and reached and bent and exposed more and more of its delicious flesh…. 

Undoing the zipper of his jeans, Stan took himself in hand and started rubbing up and down his length, biting his lip to keep from making a sound and alerting the Pet to the fact that it was being watched. That Stan was learning more about him by the second.

This was all so _hot_. Stan had set it up just right. Because of course he had. He was a fucking _genius_. And with every action it took, Stan learned. And the more he learned? The less likely they were to do something they couldn’t undo. The longer the Pet would be around to be played with.

After the Pet shuddered and the glass broke, Stan almost ended the experiment. Almost grabbed the prepared syringe out of his kit and went in to put the Pet down for the night and clean things up. 

But Stan still _ached_ , still hadn’t cum yet. And there was so much more left for him to _learn_. So Stan held back. He reached into his pants and gave a teasing squeeze to his balls, then went back up to work at his cock. Hissing at the friction, Stan started to move his fist faster and he just. Kept. Looking. 

He saw the moment that the Pet looked from his bound wrist to the broken glass, and made the connection. Glass was sharp, and leather... _Holy shit._ _It was going to try to pick up the glass and cut through the leather._

The Pet’s mouth pressed into a thin and determined line. _Smart little kitten._ Stan wanted to pry its peachy lips open and shove his cock in. Work his dick back down its throat deeper and deeper until it choked and gagged.

Leaning forward, the Pet started reaching out again with its foot. 

Stan’s movements stuttered for a moment as he considered what to do next. Should he interrupt? He’d learned a lot, but still…. _No, not yet. It wasn’t quite time._

Stan trusted himself. And the house. Sure, the kitty could try and get out, but it wouldn’t succeed. And watching it fail? Stan would learn _so much_ from that. 

Working himself even faster, swirling his thumb around his leaking tip, Stan watched as the Pet tried to grasp a large shard of glass between two of its toes. It didn’t tremor, or startle, it was all focus. And that’s when the house _shifted_. Flared upwards for just a moment, faster than the Pet would be able to comprehend. The floor pushed at the glass at the exact second when it would matter most.

The Pet couldn’t see, but Stan saw. He watched as its foot was pierced, right between the toes. _How painful that must be._ Stan focused his sight so he could see the blood rushing up…. 

With a muffled cry, the Pet fell back, wrapping its free hand around the foot in an effort to stop the bleeding. _The bleeding_. It took a second, but the scent finally reached Stan in the hall. Decadent. Even better than he remembered from before. Watching the kitten curl up on the stained bed, whimpering and shaking, Stan felt the moment get closer. He took in a large breath of copper and sweat and groaned. And then he came.

_Delicious._

* * *

Eddie’s foot _hurt_. He’d felt so smart when he realized that leather could be cut through. And he had gotten so close, and now _this._ Tears running down his face, Eddie looked around the room, trying to find something to staunch the bleeding. Because there was _so much blood_. 

Just as he was wondering if it was worse to rip the bottom off of his shirt or lose his boxers, he heard a noise. Flinching and looking up, Eddie saw the man from before standing in the doorway, looking at him passively. 

“Well, kitten, just look at yourself,” the man said in his strange, lilting tone. “Bleeding all over, broken glass on the ground. Whatever have you been getting up to?”

“I didn’t mean to-” Eddie began, looking at the stranger’s pale feet instead of his disturbing face. But then the man lifted his hand, the sudden movement making Eddie wince. 

“Don’t lie,” the man hissed, his disturbingly pale eyes narrowing. “One thing we cannot abide by is _liars_.” 

_We?!?!_ Eddie thought, heart racing and foot momentarily forgotten. _How many fucking abductors were there_? He tried to look beyond the man into the darkness, but all he could see was the strange grey void.

The man started moving forward, pulling a white box with a red handle along behind him. It had wheels and a lock on the top. Eddie really hoped it was a first aid kit. The man was silent, and Eddie thought that maybe it was in his best interest to apologize. His cheek still throbbed a bit from the last time he was ‘rude’ to the stranger.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, keeping his eyes downcast. “I won’t do it again.” 

“Finally,” the man said, voice droll, “a spark of politeness shines through the darkness.” He got closer and closer, only stopping his disturbingly disjointed movements when he was in front of the mattress, shooting out a cold hand to grab Eddie by the ankle and yanking.

Before Eddie really knew what was happening, he was stretched out and up. Hanging upside down by his leg, Eddie's weight rested fully on his upper back and shoulders as his spine arched and his shirt slid down, exposing his belly. Eddie resisted wiggling at the primal feeling of being exposed like prey. It wouldn’t have done him any good, anyways. 

His foot was held up high and immobile as the man examined the wound. Eddie bit his lip, not wanting to make things worse by crying out. But it _hurt_. And the man looked really scary, his nostrils flaring as he let go of the box, using his now free hand to pry apart Eddie’s toes. 

The man’s mouth fell open, and it seemed like he might be _panting_. It was fucking _creepy_. Eddie started to worry that he was going to do something freaky like lick at the edges of the cut. But the man just prodded with his frigid fingers, pinching and pulling. When he roughly spread the toes apart as far as he could, Eddie let out a whimper despite his best intentions. It seemed to jar the man, who looked from the foot down to Eddie’s flushed face and gave another terrifying attempt at a smile.

“No glass left in the wound,” the man said after a moment. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, not knowing what else he should say. The man let go all of a sudden, and Eddie slammed back down onto the mattress. _This guy is really all about the bedside manner_ , Eddie thought, wincing at the way the sudden movement made his aches achier.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, puss.” The man said, and Eddie wished that he sounded a bit less disappointed while sharing the information.

“That’s good,” Eddie said, parroting back the man’s earlier words. _What else was he supposed to say?_

The man just hummed and turned around. He blocked Eddie’s vision of the white case for a moment, clearly entering the lock’s combination. The sound of his voice was strangely soothing, and despite not wanting to give in, Eddie found himself relaxing a bit at the melody, even as he knew that the man was humming so that Eddie couldn’t hear the noise of the lock being twisted and opened. 

Then the man turned around and faced Eddie, and all of that relaxation evaporated. Because he was grinning again, but this time, it looked genuine. _Didn’t know that would be even more terrifying_ , Eddie thought, glancing from the syringe the man held in one of his hands to the bottle of antiseptic he held in the other.

“Still have to clean you up, though,” the man announced cheerfully, tossing the antiseptic onto the mattress and holding up the syringe. He started tapping at it and playing with the plunger like someone straight out of a fucking horror movie. “So it’s time for you to go to sleep.” 

“No,” Eddie breathed out, the thought of being drugged again punching the air out of him. He couldn’t handle it. Not again. Not so soon. 

The man just started humming again as he reached out for Eddie’s arm, getting a loose hold even as Eddie scrambled backwards across the mattress. 

“Please, no.” Eddie said, tears filling his eyes. _"Please."_

The man paused and tilted his head to the side, looking at Eddie intently. He let go of Eddie’s arm and Eddie just stayed still, trying to not even _breathe_. He was worried that any action might make the man start moving again. Start tugging at his arm again.

“That was very polite of you,” the man said. “Remembering to say please.” Eddie wasn’t looking at his face, he was too busy staring at the needle. The man lowered it to his side, and Eddie swallowed his sigh of relief.

“I-i’m trying,” Eddie said, mind scrambling. _Maybe if I just keep him talking, if I stay polite._ “I, ah, know it’s important to you.”

“It is,” the man said, staring at Eddie without blinking. Then he shook his head and Eddie tensed up. But the man just sat down on the edge of the mattress before adding - “But not nearly as important as it is to Him.” 

“Him?” Eddie asked, his voice breaking as he forced himself to remain still.

“Yeah,” the man said, folding his legs until he was perched all long-limbed and cross-legged just out of Eddie’s reach. “I’m doing you a favor by training you, trust me. You _have_ to be polite. And you _can’t_ lie.”

“I won’t,” Eddie said, and he fucking meant it.

The man looked from Eddie’s face down to his foot again. It was all bloody and dirty, and Eddie tensed, worried that the syringe was going to come out again.

“If I clean you up without putting you to sleep,” the man began - and Eddie almost cried, though this time it was from relief. _He’s considering it._ “If I do that... what will you do for me?”

“What do you want me to do?” Eddie asked, trying to be cautious even as his brain promised _Anything. I’d do fucking anything._

“You will have to hold still,” the man said, his voice firm. “And you’ll have to talk.”

“Talk?” Eddie asked. He was confused - he figured he’d have to, like, suck the dude’s dick or something. Something _way worse_ than this. But talk? He could do that. He’d do that in a heartbeat.

“Yes,” the man said, reaching into the open white case for some gauze and bandages. “You have to talk the entire time.” The man paused for a second, and shot a look at Eddie. “And you can’t cry out or be loud.”

“I can talk without being loud,” Eddie said. “Promise. I can talk for _hours_.”

“Well then,” the man said, grabbing a hold of Eddie’s foot and pulling it into his lap. “No time like the present.” He started prodding at Eddie’s foot and, while it did sting, it was bearable. 

_Time to start talking, I guess_ , Eddie thought. And so he did. 

Eddie spoke and the man listened, looking up at Eddie with his pale eyes and then bending over to focus on his work. He wet the gauze with rubbing alcohol and started cleaning Eddie’s foot and leg, because by now the blood had gotten messier and spread almost up to Eddie's knee. The man's strokes were precise and calculated. The cool and almost robotic motions felt soothing as Eddie rambled. He talked about anything he could think of. He talked about seeing Star Wars for the first time, about the plot of the movie Holes and how well it translated from the book. He just… went on. And on.

“I was eleven the first time I rode a bike. My mom wouldn’t let me do it when I was younger, she was afraid that I’d get hurt. She always thought I was so damn _breakable_. But I wanted to ride one. The kids at school made fun of me, and it was awful. It took years for me to convince her, and to save up my allowance so she couldn't whine at me about 'the expense'. But, eventually, I got her to agree. I bought a blue bike from my neighbor's kid. He laughed at me about it. Said the bike was for babies. But I didn't care. I was so excited. And then, the very first day, I fell off and broke my arm. She never let me forget that. Threw the bike out while I watched, before even taking me to the doctor. It almost felt worse watching her get rid of it than it did in my arm. Everything _hurt._ I can’t forget the ride to the hospital, the way the bumps rattled the bone...”

‘Which arm?” The man asked suddenly, and Eddie flinched. He’d been so lost in all of his talking that he’d forgotten for a moment what was actually going on. Blinking, Eddie shook his head and took stock. His foot was clean, and his leg was, too. The man’s hand was resting on his knee, and Eddie forced himself to not pull away. Everything felt a bit too real, and he wanted to wince.

“Which arm?” The man asked again, voice low and soothing, squeezing at Eddie’s kneecap. He didn’t seem angry about having to repeat himself, which was good. It was like he understood that Eddie needed the reminder. 

“Oh, ah, this one,” Eddie said, shaking the arm that had the leather cuff around it, making the chains rattle and further reminding him of the harshness of his reality.

“I didn’t know that,” the man said, sitting back on his heels and sounding very angry. 

Eddie didn’t know how he could be to blame for the man not knowing, but he was still worried that the man would think that he was.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, his voice miserable as he curled up his shoulders and tried to get smaller. 

“Not your fault,” the man said, frowning. Suddenly, he pushed at Eddie's chest until Eddie was flat on his back. He moved forward until he was straddling Eddie and, reaching out, he grabbing the chained arm and started running his long, cold fingers down it. Eddie hated it, but he held still.

“Where was the break?” The man asked, scooting up until he was sitting on Eddie’s chest, giving himself more room to move around the arm. Eddie almost retched at the way the man smelled - all salt and fennel. 

“Ah, here,” Eddie said, gesturing at the middle of his forearm with his unchained hand. “An open radial fracture.” 

The man touched Eddie right over the break, roughly rubbing at it with his thumb. Eddie focused on breathing in and out as best as he could, trying to ignore both the rubbing and the pressure on his chest.

“I can feel it, the break and growth,” the man said, his voice strained. Guttural. 

“Does it still hurt?” The man asked, prodding sharply until Eddie couldn’t help but gasp. _Was this the next step in whatever the fuck kind of torture plan this dude had plotted out? Was he going to push until the bone rebroke?_

“Yeah,” Eddie said, trying to press down against the flood of anxiety rising up inside of him. _He’d promised to be honest_. “Especially when it rains. There was a surgery and everything.”

The man let go and moved back a bit, settling his full weight on Eddie’s chest and just staring at Eddie’s face. Pale eyes flickered across his face, and Eddie didn’t know what it _meant._

 _What am I supposed to do?_ Eddie thought. _What am I supposed to say_? The man was scary. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was rough, and his legs were so tight around Eddie’s chest…. _Maybe if I distract him_...

“What’s your name?” Eddie blurted out. “I don’t know what to call you.”

The man blinked. His legs loosened their hold a bit. And then he _laughed_. Head-back, shoulders-shaking laughter. Eddie wanted to hate the sound, but he couldn’t. It was beautiful. The entire time it went on, Eddie felt like he had been transported out of the cold and depressing room and into a place that was warm and kind. He felt lighter. When it stopped, Eddie had to bite his tongue so as not to ask the man to laugh again, and for longer.

“Oh, kitten, I didn’t expect you to ask that,” the man said. He hopped off of Eddie quickly, making the boy shiver at the sudden lack of warmth. 

_Is it good or bad to do something he doesn’t expect?_ Eddie wondered, tense. He opened his mouth to say as much when -

“You’re just full of surprises,” the man went on, standing up and stretching out his tense muscles. Watching his ease of movement made Eddie ache. He’d only been here for a bit over a day, as far as he could tell, but he already really wished that he could stretch out like that. Get all the cricks out of his neck without it agitating any of his many wounds.

“I don’t mean to be,” Eddie said, shocking himself with the truth of the words. “Especially if you don’t like it.” Eddie thought about asking again, but something inside of him warned that it would be a bad idea, so he just waited.

“I like it more than I should,” the man said, his voice sounding distracted. Eddie watched in anxious silence as the man walked to the end of the bed and knelt down next to the box of medical supplies. _What was going to happen now? What was coming next?_

Eddie craned his neck, trying to see what was going on. The man started his humming again, and Eddie was just so tired, he gave up a bit. _Why worry?_ He wouldn’t change anything with it. What was about to happen was going to happen no matter what he did. _Might as well let the vaguely hymnal tune soothe me for a moment_ , he reasoned.

The moment ended too soon. When the man turned around he was holding either the same drug-filled syringe from before, or a new one. Eddie felt a sense of betrayal take root. 

“But I talked-” Eddie began, trying to protest. He scurried away from the man as far as his chain would allow him, leaving the relative comfort of the mattress and moving along the wall until his arm was fully stretched out.

“You did,” the man said agreeably. He walked over to Eddie and scooped him up with one arm - throwing him backwards onto the mattress so quickly that Eddie didn’t have time to react or protest. 

“And I didn’t yell,” Eddie went on, tears falling as the man grabbed his chained arm and held it out, clearly looking it over for a good vein.

“You didn’t yell even a little bit,” the man acknowledged, nodding. He put the syringe carefully between his teeth and started to flick his finger against a promising spot on the inside of Eddie’s elbow. 

Eddie couldn’t believe it. He’d done everything…. he’d been honest…. 

_This is bullshit_ , Eddie thought. He tried pulling his arm away, but the man’s grip was firm. _I have to say something. Something to change his mind._ Eddie racked his brain, but all that came out was -

“You promised,” Eddie said, voice quivering. 

“I said that if you talked to me I wouldn’t put you to sleep while cleaning up your cut,” the man corrected. “But you’re clean now, and it is time for you to _rest_.” He pricked the needle into the tender of Eddie’s elbow with an ease that only comes from practice. _How many times has he done this?_ Eddie wondered _. Not to me, but in general_. Even as the drugs started their bitter work, Eddie struggled against it.

“Thi’ izzn fair,” Eddie said, voice slurring over the words. It felt important.

“Nothing in life is fucking fair, puss.” The man said, all mirth gone from his eyes. Eddie felt his grip on consciousness fade away. He struggled, but it was happening. _Might as well just let go..._

“Oh,” the man went on, leaning in close until his face was a blur right in front of Eddie’s eyes. “And my name?” 

_He’s going to tell me_ , Eddie thought, trying to force himself to hold on just a second longer. He _needed_ to know this. _Needed_ to know what to call this fucking bastard. He lingered, he held out, and he could tell that the man was waiting. 

He was keeping Eddie right on the terrible precipice of almost - but not quite - giving in for as long as possible. Eddie had finally admitted to himself that he had lost whatever battle or game they were playing. Shutting his eyes, he sank down and away. Right as the darkness closed over, he thought he heard someone speaking. The voice sounded dull, like it was coming through cotton.

“My name is Stan.”

* * *

Gods, what a fucking _vision_. All doe eyes and bruised flesh. And it had dared to ask for Stan’s name. It had _dared_. And it had fought. Even when it knew it was going to lose, even as it laid there on the stained bed, medication pulling away all of its strength, the Pet glared up at Stan for as long as it could. As the drugs forcibly shut its eyes, it still resisted. 

_Fuck_. 

He’d given it what it asked for. As a reward for being surprising. For being more than the bare minimum. Now Stan would wait. He’d wait and see if the Pet had been strong enough to _linger_. If it had heard the answer it had asked for.

As he watched the last of its consciousness fade away, Stan wanted nothing more than to shake it awake and test it again. Add in other variables. He wanted to watch the way it would... _respond_. See how much it could _take_. 

Stan reached into his shirt and grabbed out the key to unlock the leather cuff. It was time to change out the bedding. Time to wash the Pet. Pulling the dirty clothes off of the Pet in preparation, Stan looked. And thought.

 _What a small, weak thing, all lost and alone, no idea as to the ways of the real world_.... 

_And so light, too_ , Stan thought, picking up the pliable body and walking it out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. The room was already set up, bath full and tubing at the ready. Mike had done his job. 

Stan gently laid the kitten in the warm water. _Tiny thing_. Time to get it clean. Stan’s eyes lingered on the faint scar on the Pet’s forearm and he frowned. The bruising had covered it until he knew where to look. Reaching for the soap and very careful to not get the wound at the base of the Pet’s skull wet, Stan started planning. 

_The arm could be a problem._ Stan had to figure out what to tell Richie. He hummed as he washed, laying some groundwork to heal the bruises a bit. Not too much, but a bit. Because Richie wasn’t going to be _patient_. He wouldn’t stay away for much longer. Stan could feel him in his mind, biting at the edges. Richie had his hunger, had his needs. And Stan could only meet them for so long.

The Pet had to be strong enough not to break too soon. If his bones were too weak - _best not to think on things before they happened,_ Stan told himself. Still, he hummed a bit louder and longer. And he kept the kitten in the healing water until it was cool to the touch.

 _It really is a pretty little thing,_ Stan thought a while later. He had dressed it and laid it out. Had rubbed in the cream and checked the wounds. Had carefully searched over every inch of it for further _damage_. Now he was back to looking. And wondering.

What would it do next? Would it give up? Exactly how strong of a kitten had they plucked out of the gutter? _Had they chosen wisely_?

Stan was starting to think that they had. He was starting to think that Richie had been right. There were still questions, though. 

_But there is always tomorrow to get more answers,_ Stan thought, grinning as he gently closed the door on the sleeping figure of the Pet. And he _would_ get them. One way or the other.

**Author's Note:**

> [come talk to me on tumblr](losers-to-lovers.tumblr.com)
> 
> and as always - just let me know if i should tag something i didn't, but please don't be a dick about it. this is my first venture into dark fic and i'm learning.


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